had said, out of the question. To wait,
both of them, in the church, for the storm's abating, was again not a
desirable measure, and would furnish even richer food for the tongues
of the parish than the other alternatives would. To leave her, or for
her to leave him, were alike impossible. Mr. Masters was not a man who
usually hesitated long about any course of action, but he was puzzled
to-day. He walked up and down in one of the aisles, thinking; while
Diana resumed her seat by the stove. Her simplicity and independence of
character did not allow her to greatly care about the matter; though
she, too, knew very well what disagreeable things would be said, at
home and elsewhere, and what a handle would be made of the affair, both
against her and against the minister. For his sake, she was sorry; for
herself, what did anything much matter? This storm was an exceptional
one; such as comes once in a year perhaps, or perhaps not in several
years. The wind had risen to a tempest; the snow drove thick before it,
whirling in the eddies of the gust, so as to come in every possible
direction, and seemingly caught up again before it could reach a
resting-place. The fury of its assault upon the church windows made one
thing at least certain; it would be a mad proceeding now to venture out
into it, for a woman or a man either. And it was very cold; though
happily the stoves had been so effectually fired up, that the little
meeting-house was still quite comfortable. Yet the minister walked and
walked. Diana almost forgot him; she sat lost in her own thoughts. The
lull was soothing. The solitude was comforting. The storm which put a
barrier between her and all the rest of the world, was a temporary
friend. Diana could find it in her heart to wish it were more than
temporary. To be out of the old grooves of pain is something, until the
new ones are worn. To forsake scenes and surroundings which know all
our secrets is sometimes to escape beneficially their persistent
reminders of everything one would like to forget. Diana felt like a
child that has run away from school, and so for the present got rid of
its lessons; and sat in a quiet sort of dull content, listening now and
then to the roar of the blast, and hugging herself that she had run
away in time. Half an hour more, and it would have been too late, and
Will and her mother would have been her companions for all day. How
about to-morrow? Diana shuddered. And how about all the to-m